


Wouldn't You Like to Know

by GirlWhoWrites



Series: Remix-Redux [1]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: AU: Asgardian, AU: MCU, AU: Witches, Alice as Agatha, Angst, Carlisle as Odin, Conjugal Visit, Drama, Esme as Frigga, F/M, I had so much fun with this, Jasper as Loki, Pining, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Project Jasper Gets Laid 2021, Quote: Love is for children (Marvel), Remix-Redux, Rosalie as Thor, Smut, Two idiots who won't admit they love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 23:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30096531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWhoWrites/pseuds/GirlWhoWrites
Summary: “Be careful, little witch,” Jasper smirked. “You almost sound like you might care for me.”
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Series: Remix-Redux [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214549
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Jalice Remix-Redux 2021





	Wouldn't You Like to Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tragicallywicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallywicked/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Endless Nothingness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30043146) by [tragicallywicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallywicked/pseuds/tragicallywicked). 



> Happy Remix-Redux! Am I running behind? Yes. Is that going to stop me? No. 
> 
> First up is this remix of Anna's Endless Nothingness, from her MCU-verse, where Alice takes on the role of Agatha Harkness. Thank you for letting me play in this universe, Anna, I love it too much - I finally got to put all my MCU knowledge to use again! 
> 
> This takes place at the beginning of Thor: The Dark World; Jasper has just been imprisoned in Asgard. A working knowledge of the events of Thor and of The Avengers would provide helpful context, but high-five to anyone who wants to go it alone. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

The cell was one of the largest in the dungeons, encasing him in four walls of nearly transparent energy. If he behaved himself, he was allowed to darkened the energy to sleep in privacy. But that wasn’t a privilege he expected to acquire until the next decade, honestly. Carlisle was uncharacteristically stern and unyielding when it had come to sentencing.

Did he regret taking the fall for the entire debacle?

Not entirely - he’d never admit that, not even under the pain of death. But it didn’t take an impressive intellect to know that the punishment that Alice, a known nuisance to Asgard, would receive would be far more terrible than anything a Crown Prince of the realm would ever face.

He’d been given multiple luxuries - his books, a comfortable bed and sitting area - that he _knew_ were because of his moth… because of Esme. Esme certainly would have been able to convince Carlisle to bestow upon him his books, some creature comforts.

Rose might have, too, but she wouldn’t have done so as quickly. She would have made him wait months before she helped. That was just her way.

Watching through the hazy energy, he could see the Einherijar standing at the great gold doors, unflinching. Beyond that, he could make out the fuzzy figures of other prisoners (he absently wondered if Amora or Lorelai were still caged, or if Carlisle had had a characteristic moment of weakness and mercy and released them again. Twelve-hundred years, and it was like clockwork - they would be imprisoned for one of their trademark crimes, they would be imprisoned for a short time, they would prostrate themselves before the King of Asgard begging for clemency, claiming regret and remorse, and they would be pardoned. They would keep a low profile until they got bored and the whole cycle started again; as reliable as the setting of the sun.)

Jasper slumped in the chair, playing with the little golden ball someone had included amongst his things, made of interlocking gold scales. Probably Rose, being spiteful.

There would be no protecting Alice if Rosalie discovered that _she_ was behind the invasion. Rosalie would bring the entirety of Asgard and Yggdrasil down upon his little witch.

Tossing the ball up and down, it took several moments for Jasper to notice the spit and fizz of the energy in the corner of the cell, where it met the stone wall. It was almost sparking.

And the Einherijar had not flinched.

It took a few moments longer than it should have, but slowly, smoke pooled on the floor in a grey-black that rippled in that familiar purple colour that Jasper knew intimately. From there, Alice reformed easily.

The little witch was already glaring at him, her eyes shining purple due to whatever magic she had pulled out of nowhere to manifest directly in an Asgardian prison cell.

(Good _god_ he would love to watch Carlisle’s face if Jasper were to inform him the human witch had found a way to slip through to Jasper’s own cell without alerting anyone; the shadow of her figure indicated she was, in fact, tangible. What she had just managed indicated she was far more powerful than anyone anticipated.)

“What an unexpected surprise,” Jasper drawled, refusing to let her see how surprised and impressed he was at this particular turn of events. He really would have to pick her brain one of these days for some of her tricks.

“I could say the same thing to you,” she snarked back - he can feel how irritable she is, how strained and frayed her nerves are. She looked _marginally_ better than she had when he had found her on Earth - her well-worn dress had been replaced with a silhouette-hugging black dress woven with silvery stars and constellations, the sheer fabric of the skirt obscuring her bare legs. A chain of tiny, perfectly white diamonds (most likely stolen from Nidavellir because Alice tended not to think things through once she got an idea in her head) held her hair off her face.

But she was still pale, dark circles underscoring her eyes, and there was a bruise down the left side of her face that was faded but still noticeable - it was more noticeable that she hadn’t bothered to heal it.

He had the sudden urge to break the fingers of whichever of Rosalie’s little allies had hurt her, one that he tamped down quickly. Alice was more than capable of taking care of herself, and exactly how would it look if he were to leap to her defence publicly?

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of declaring himself so publicly. It was one of their longest-running games, who would break first.

“Why did you tell your father that you were responsible?” she demanded. She hadn’t slept, that was clear enough. He wondered if she had even rested; he knew of one of her bolt-holes, the one that he was welcome in. But she would have others, known only to her. Alice had always been pragmatic.

“Carlisle believed I was more than capable of such … _atrocities_ ,” he said languidly, and Alice averted her eyes, ashamed. “And as I am still a prince of the realm, the punishment is…” He trailed off and waved his hand around. “Carlisle would have sent you back to Midgard to be dealt with, with Rosalie as your guard.”

Alice winced. The attack on New York had been her. Her rage at Rosalie and Carlisle for _allowing_ him to fall. For centuries of _lies_ about who he was, for the endless casual cruelty, the constant reminders that he didn’t just fall short of Carlisle’s expectations as a son or a prince, but as a man. She had planned to bring Midgard to its knees, and then she would have turned her gaze on Asgard.

She honestly hadn’t planned for so many casualties. But it had been Jasper who brought the Chitauri army…

“I don’t need you to protect me,” she says defiantly. “I never have, not from the Norns, not from the dwarves, not from the Kree…”

“There is a significant difference, little witch, between a few Kree extremists and the King of Asgard,” Jasper says with a warning tone. “You got away clean - neither Midgard nor Asgard have taken note of your presence. You’re telling me that you’d rather be tied down in some Midgardian prison like an animal so that you owe me nothing?”

“There’s no debt unless I personally request your assistance - _that_ was explicitly agreed upon in 1783. I cannot be held responsible if your fall taught you the unnecessary art of chivalry,” Alice sniffed.

“Touché,” Jasper agreed, a smirk playing on his face. He always loved it when she was riled up. “I never did ask you why you decided to go to war against Midgard,” he says, pulling her into his arms carefully, to make sure she didn’t pull away. “I’m not complaining. It just isn’t your usual raison d’être. Your preferences usually lean to the more… _subtle.”_

Alice frowned and took a moment before she spoke. “You didn’t get Asgard, so Rosalie doesn’t get Midgard,” she says finally, her jaw clenched. “There was no funeral, no monument to the Prince of the Realm, you were just allowed to _disappear._ ”

“…You did it for me?” Jasper said slowly. “To punish Rose?”

“If it wasn’t for _Rosalie_ , you wouldn’t have let go!” Alice snapped, twisting out of his grip. “If it wasn’t for _Carlisle_ …”

“Be careful, little witch,” he smirked. “You almost sound like you might care for me.”

She hissed, like a cat. “I _saw it happen_. You _let_ go.” She looked back at him, and he was captivated by the swirl of violet energy in her eyes. Her eyes were really a pale grey, easily overwhelmed by the stronger colour. He so rarely saw the grey; usually when they were folded into the bed in her apartment back on Midgard where the runes protected them and she could let her guard down. 

He sighed. “Does it help if I admit it?” he asked coolly. “That I looked Carlisle and Rosalie in the eye and realised I had no future in Asgard? That there was nothing left there for me?”

“You had no way of knowing you’d survive,” Alice replied, but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “And I couldn’t get to you…”

Jasper frowned. He’d known Alice was there, but he hadn’t realised she had been on the Bifrost when he’d fallen. He hadn’t seen her…

_Wide, horrified eyes; a shriek and a flash of black and purple from the corner of his eye and then he was gone - the jagged edges of the broken Bifrost obscuring the figures watching his descent as he fell amongst the stars…_

He had. He needed to admit that, to himself at least. He had seen her, heard her scream, and he’d let go anyway.  
  
(If it had been her that had reached out for him, he could have climbed back up. That’s something he’ll barely admit to himself.)

He thinks of the ragged scar down his rib cage; it had been held together by his seidr when he had woken up in the shadowy beyond, and by the time he’d managed to heal it, he couldn’t avoid scarring. It wasn’t his first scar, and it wouldn’t be his last. 

“What’s done is done,” Jasper said finally. “A few decades of suitable repentance, and Esme will help convince Carlisle that the sentence was far too much and I should be allowed to roam Asgard freely.”

“It was my fault.” Alice murmured.

“You could lay claim to so many catastrophes over the centuries, little one,” Jasper said, suddenly curious. “Tarragona? Brescia? The Versailles rail accident? What makes this one lie so heavily on your conscience?”

“It was unnecessary, in the end. There was nothing to avenge - you’re alive,”Alice said stiffly.

“Well, you provided a suitable cover for my plan, so I suppose I should be thanking you,” he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into his touch, her eyes darkening.

“How do you plan to thank me, then?” she asks, her emotions twisting to something with the potential to be much more enjoyable.

“No debt unless I personally request your assistance, April 17th 1763,” he shoots back, and she licks her lips, and maybe this time, he will show his appreciation for her.

“1783,” she corrects. “’63 was Morag.” He’s pulled her flush against him, his eyes following the line of her neck to the modest but entirely enticing swell of cleavage.

“Well, I suppose we can consider this act of generosity a gift, and I should thank you for that,” he murmurs. She smiles, and folds her fingers against her palm to lead a lazy purple haze surrounds them, offering them privacy from prying eyes.

“Why did you expend such an effort to break into my prison cell, hmm?” he asks suddenly, as her hands fall to the laces of his breeches. “Surely not just to yell at me?”

Alice smirked, pulling her hands away and stepping backwards towards the bed. “On Earth, we have this thing for prisoners called a conjugal visit,” she began and a grin began to spread on Jasper’s face as he tugged her closer and lifted her up so he could kiss her again.

Devious little witch.

—

The only thing better than when Alice was on her knees before him was when he had the opportunity to get down on his knees for her; something he knew she enjoyed but often refused because she disliked giving him that power over her.

Peeling off her dress left Alice in the tiniest silky black slip he’d ever seen, contrasting perfectly with her pale skin. Staring at him with hooded eyes, she stretched out her leg for him to unclasp her shoe (god, he both hated and loved the amount of ties and clasps and chains she insisted on having on her footwear. But the look of her in her slip and her black stilettos was something divine, one of his preferred memories of her.) As he tossed the shoes aside, Alice had already lifted her hips to slip out of her panties, parting her knees just enough to tease him with a glimpse, and he growled at her, wondering if she’d allow him to have a taste, to press his mouth against her and make her beg him.

(She was probably right about him enjoying having that power over her too much. He did so love it when she begged him, when she had her fingers tangled in his hair and her thighs holding him in place, and his fingers dug into her hips and left bruises. Good times.)

“No time for that, my lord,” she said with a smirk as he leant over to press kisses to knees and thighs, his intentions clear. He brackets her body with his arms as he leans into the kiss - this is the first time they’ve been together since… since she found out about his true bloodline. He never did get a chance to take her on the throne, a long-held fantasy of his; her swathed in black and gold with her bodice unlaced and her legs over his shoulders, perched on the highest seat in Yggdrasil with Asgard’s king between her thighs…

She manages to unclasp his leather jerkin, and pushes it off his shoulders, bringing him back to the present. Her fingers fall to the smooth, pink burn scar over below his left shoulder - the one she gave him when they first met, the wary teenage girl with defiant eyes and emotions that leapt out at him, like wildfire.

It takes a few more moments to slip out of their clothes and they both pretend that they aren’t inspecting the other for injuries - Alice frowns when she sees the scar left by his seidr, and his eyes widen at the angry bruise spreading out from Alice’s right hip - he remembers Rosalie throwing Alice across the rooftop in New York, and Alice had landed hard, but had gotten up. He had assumed that she was okay, but the stain of black-red and purple on her body is angry and obscene, and most likely painful. (His fingers graze her skin, a minute piece of magic to ease pain and speed healing, for his own peace of mind.)

Before she says anything, he kisses her again, rolling so that she’s on top. Their size difference makes it much more efficient when Alice is astride him, and he gets the distinct advantage of being able to see all of her this way. She smiles lazily at him, rubbing against him in a way that makes him moan and snag another kiss.

As she sinks down, making soft noises of pleasure as she stretches around him, he thinks back, back to those few heady days as King. When he was plotting and planning to secure his claim before Rosalie could find a way home - the first and easiest way would be to marry and produce a healthy heir. But he would need a bride, and very few of the ladies of Asgard had ever seriously pursued the dangerous, lying prince when it was always unspoken that Rosalie would be the one to ascend the throne. And the few ladies from families foolish or arrogant enough to appeal to him were so dull they appeared simple. He would have liked his marriage to have a little sport, after all.

Groaning as Alice leant back, allowing him to see himself filling her, he swore, gripping her hips tightly and Alice smirked at him, her eyes looking slightly glazed as she began to move against him. The pace she was setting was not one that allowed for a lingering encounter, and whilst it wasn’t smart for her to spent too much time in his cell, let alone riding him, it was disappointing.

 _She_ would have been an entertaining queen, that’s for sure. He would have enjoyed the reaction to everyone being informed he was marrying the Midgardian Witch, would have enjoyed the novelty of Asgard through Alice’s eyes - he could already imagine her antics with the royal dressmaker and the royal jeweller. He could imagine the fantastic hell she’d bring down on him when he had demanded a legitimate heir from her. That idea made him feel warmer; rage-fucking Alice was one of his favourite hobbies. She was an insatiable little spitfire when he aggravated her enough.

Bucking up inside of her to catch her unaware, his eyes were glued to Alice as she gasped, one hand moving from his stomach to rub herself - she was so close, her arousal and desire spilling through his gift, and it took only seconds before she cried out, her eyes rolling back and a faint purple glow illuminating her skin. He groaned, at the slick heat of her around him, of her emotions pushing him closer when he wanted to draw this out as long as they could.

She looks down at him as she regains herself, painting and biting her lip as she continues to move against him, watching his face to see which movement he likes best, which jerk of her body makes him grunt and thrust up harder within her, makes him clench his jaw and hiss at her.

Really, she should know it all by now. They’ve been doing this long enough.

Then she tilts her head like a curious bird and a new kind of smile graces her face - something halfway between a smirk and something far more intimate and knowing; an idea, perhaps a secret. One that has her pause in her movements and lean closer to him.

“Show me,” she murmurs, her orgasm having left a fine sheen of sweat on her skin, her cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. He could feel her desire and eagerness for him welling again, and god, he feels sorry for anyone who hasn’t taken Alice to bed.

“Show you what?” he asks huskily, shifting beneath her enough to make her arch into him.

“You. Show me you,” she says and he suddenly understands. He rolls his eyes but acquiesces; the mottled blue of his true form spreads from underneath Alice’s hands on his chest, and over his body - darker blue markings that could easily be mistaken for tattoos swirling in unbroken lines over his torso and arms. It was a very strange feeling, letting the illusion drop away - somehow making things lighter and heavier simultaneously as his bones and muscles gain density, as he gains an inch or two in height but the slight awareness of his skin vanishes. He feels colder and Alice’s flesh feels so much warmer against him.

Alice lets out a strangled noise, a flash of pleasure-pain running through her, and she grinds down against him, confirming that height and weight isn’t the only bulk he’s gained without the Aesir illusion. Her fingers begin to trace the markings, her hair sticking to her face as he guides her hips in a way that is driving them both mad.

He manages to flip her underneath him, to take control for these last few moments. She’s willing, looping her legs around his waist as he moves against her. Her hands run over his skin and he can hear the whisper of his name under her breath; this is the reason that she would have been the ideal choice as his Queen - she had never turned him away when he did not truly deserve it. Not when he first revealed his monstrous visage; not when he demanded she let him take her as he was, without Carlisle’s illusion. She hadn’t flinched or muttered names, she had never called him anything but ‘Jasper’; never ‘ _beast_ ’ or ‘ _monster_ ’ or ‘ _disappointment_ ’. That small kindness was more loyalty than he had ever expected from anyone, let alone from _Alice_ , and he would have rewarded it. 

The bed is rocking from their motion, and he can feel how close she is, how she scrabbles at his back with her nails, the erratic way she’s moving against him, the soft, nonsensical begging spilling from her lips.

He tangles one hand in her hair and pulls her towards him for a kiss, deep and lingering, as he pushes into her harder, and he feels her fall more than he hears it as she arches against him gasping and groaning his name; her eyes flash grey and violet and he joins her just as suddenly, his hips stuttering against hers.

He rolls off her quickly, to prevent her from bearing his weight - almost triple that of a human man his size, and he lets the Aesir illusion reform, chuckling at the pout on Alice’s lips as the markings vanish.

“Insatiable creature,” he murmurs, as Alice rolls onto her stomach. She looks calmer, more relaxed.

“I’ve always been a sucker for tattoos,” she replies, shoving her hair from her eyes. The little band of diamonds has clung on to her head valiantly, but her hair is frizzing around her face.

He wants to kiss her again for that, for making the tribal bloodline markings embedded in his DNA into something both simple and pleasing to speak of. Tattoos.

“So, this was a conjugal visit,” he says instead, to divert his thought process. Too much, too soft. This is _Alice._ Devious, contrary, sharp little Alice.

“Mmm-hmm,” she says, a look on her face that he cannot decipher, her emotions giving away no clues.

“I have to say that they are a cultural practice that needs to be introduced to Asgard immediately for the foreseeable future,” he replies, running his hand up her bare back.

“I thought you’d like it,” she laughs before she looks up suddenly, and immediately climbs off the bed. “The wards are being taken down, someone is coming,” she says, hurriedly gathering her clothing and throwing his at his head. Somehow, she pulls off the dishevelled look well, and it takes most of his willpower not to drag her back to bed and let their discovery happen.

“You’ll be back?” he asks carelessly, trying not to sound like it matters too much either way, but she smirks at him.

“Oh, Jas, I’m never far away,” she says, turning back towards his desk and reaching for something. She’s pilfered more than a few items over the years, and he moves quickly to stop her from taking something new, his body pressed against hers for a second as she twists out of his grip, clutching something over her head - which is still too low to keep it away from him, considering how short she is.

He frowns when he sees the little golden ball of scales in her hand; a children’s toy, in truth. But she smiles at him mysteriously, and her purple energy slips between the scales and it opens like a flower to reveal something small and shiny.

A rune-stone, dark grey with Alice’s purple magic humming within the rune marking. He hasn’t studied Migardian magic intensely before, and he doesn’t recognise the symbol.

So _that’s_ how she knew where to find him.

“Pick a spot or I’ll pick one for you,” Alice declares, tipping the stone into her hand.

“For what?” He takes a step backward instinctively, but he’s still too slow as she lunges, slamming the stone against the burn scar. He yells at the sudden cold-burn as it sinks beneath his flesh, leaving behind the purple rune before it fades into something only a shade lighter than the skin around it.

“In case I need to find you again,” she smiles angelically, reforming the ball and throwing it at him. “You get to keep the toy, though.”

“You don’t just get to smack a rune into me,” he snaps, irritated by her sneak attack. He’s been trying to place a tracker on her for decades, and she just _does_ that…

“I can. I have. I did,” Alice looks over to the purple smoke concealing the cell. “Our time is up. I’m afraid we might have been caught, but I’m sure you can talk your way out of that.” The smoke was rapidly pulling away from the walls and gathering around Alice’s feet. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” And, after blowing him a kiss, Alice dissolved into the smoke.

A second after the smoke dissipated, the huge golden doors burst open to reveal an infuriated looking Rosalie, hammer in hand.

“What the _hell_ have you been up to now?” Rosalie snapped, flanked by her friends and the Einherijar, all of them staring at Jasper - shirtless and barefoot, staring at the corner of his cell with a children’s toy in one hand.

He didn’t respond, just felt a wave of something unfamiliar wash over him, over Rosalie’s irritation and her friends’ disdain and the Einherijars’ suspicion. Something like he didn’t want Alice to go and not come back. He wanted her to stay or, at least, return soon. He wanted…

(He wanted to be back in that shabby little apartment, where her eyes are grey, and she feeds him terrible Midgardian food, and they fuck on every available surface, and she sleeps tucked up beside him, with her face pressed against his neck. And he stays awake just in case, to watch over her, because after all these years, she still doesn’t really know what’s out there. He wanted to be in a world where maybe she wasn’t his Queen but his lady wife, his quicksilver witch who might vanish at will but always came home to him.

But those thoughts were best buried deep, because that wasn’t who they were, what they were, to each other. They had never been that. They bickered and tricked and fucked and teased. And they’d have to cut out his tongue, his heart, and his self-preservation to ever have him admit any of that outloud.)

“Oh, Rosie,” he finally says, letting his Cheshire-cat grin stretch across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes & Glossary  
> \- Jasper and Alice are both head over heels in love, both in denial, and both accepting of the fact that the other would mock them mercilessly for having feelings. 
> 
> \- I did play fast and loose with the magic but this is Remix Redux, so it stands. 
> 
> \- Frankly, Rosalie is this-close to murdering Jasper and claiming he tripped. 
> 
> Glossary  
> Einherijar - the warriors of Asgard/soldiers in the Asgardian palace in the MCU  
> Midgard - the Asgardian term for Earth/the solar system.  
> Seidr - a term for Norse-mythological magic, often associated with MCU's Loki  
> Yggdrasil - the World Tree in Norse mythology. Asgard is at the top, and Earth is in the middle.


End file.
